


Hunt You Down All Nightmare Long

by bloodandcream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Cas is a sheriff, F/M, Facial Shaving, Hand Jobs, Meg is a bandit, Slow Burn, Stockholm Syndrome, may be considered dub-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 01:30:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3433034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel knocked his stool down as he shot up and ran from the saloon. Dean was on his heels. Out in the street, he heard the noise coming from up a few shops, from the bank. Someone emerged from the bank waving a gun, wearing a loose dark coat that went to their ankles and a large hat with a bandana tied around their face obscuring everything but the eyes. Another person came out behind them, dragging a body. They were both dressed the same, the only feature discernible two sets of brown eyes, and both weighed down with canvas sacks presumably of money they had just stolen from the bank. The second bandit had the banker knocked unconscious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Castiel yawned and scrubbed a hand over his face, fingers scraping the stubble along his jaw as he rested his chin in a cupped palm. The paperwork scattered over his desk was starting to waver in his vision. He scratched a few more notes down as he shuffled them around. It had been a long day. He was up before dawn to ride out to the edge of the territory to settle a property dispute between Hannity and Smith. Both were trying to use the same stream for different purposes and saying they had the rights to it. They were both full of shit, to be honest. Then he had to ride all the way to the other edge of the territory for a cattle dispute.

It had been a brutally hot day too. His eyes were dry and sore from spending too much time in the sun. At least he was indoors now, and hadn’t been disturbed since he got back with any other matters to be resolved. The jail house was quiet and empty, the squeak of his chair tipping back the only sound. It was getting to be evening, the sun coming through the West window throwing shadows of the cell bars across the barren room.

Castiel kept it tidy. A desk. A chair. The two cells with their benches. A cabinet. He liked to keep paper records, cause memory could be a fickle thing. Sometimes it was relaxing, scratching out the days events to be stored away for future reference. Sometimes, Castiel was just tired.

He tried to remember when he was excited to take on the mantle of Sheriff. Tried to remember what drove him to follow his brothers out here, intent on being forces of good to help settle the Wild West. Tried to remember his own resolve and unwavering faith in his duty. But somehow he ended up in the tiny little settlement of Shady Oaks - he really wouldn’t even call it a town - and for the most part his duty consisted of petty disputes and misunderstandings.

Scowling at his mostly finished paperwork, Castiel gathered it up and filed it away. Grabbing his hat and duster from where they were slung over a chair by the door, he stepped out of his office slash jail cell onto the main street. There were a few people milling around who waved and said hello, but it was mostly a quiet place. He scratched his horse Connie behind the ears and checked that she still had plenty of water in the trough, leaving her tethered there as he stepped off the stoop.

The general store, the post office, the barber shop, the bank, they were all still open. Castiel probably should stick around his office seeing as he wasn’t out on any official business. But, well, people would know where to find him if they needed him. Ambling across the rutted dirt main thoroughfare to the saloon - it was pretty convenient having the saloon directly across from the jail house - Castiel swung the doors in and made his way to the bar.

It was still pretty early. No one was set up playing music. There was the usual two drunks, Harry and Tom, passed out on separate tables. An unfamiliar gentleman in dusty clothes that was probably just passing through sat at another table with one of the ladies of the saloon. He didn’t look threatening at all, not too fancy, not too shabby. Castiel took note, and sat on a stool at the bar.

The barman turned around, drying glasses from a tub and lining them under the bar.

"Heya, Cas, you’re here early."

"Hello Dean."

Dean set a glass in front of him and filled it halfway with amber liquid. Whiskey, probably. Or something. It burned all the way down leaving his lips tingling. At least it was strong.

"Long day?"

"Had to go out to Hannity’s land this morning for the usual bickering, then out to the Leigh’s about some cattle."

Dean whistled, and poured himself a little drink too, leaning on his elbows against the counter as he talked. “Goddam that’s a lot of riding for a day. You been out all day?”

"Just got back bout an hour ago, finished up some paperwork."

"You and your paperwork Cas."

"It’ll be useful for the next sheriff."

"You thinking of quittin?"

"No, but you know this isn’t the safest line of work."

"Roundabouts here is not too bad."

Castiel sighed and tipped his drink back. A slender brunette in petticoats and a corset - hadn’t even bothered with a dress - slinked over and sat on the stool next to Castiel. Her cleavage spilled over the top of her corset, the pink curve of her nipples pushing up just a little, ah, and she was smiling as Castiel lifted his gaze from her bosom.

"Hello, April."

"Hi Cas, you spending the night?"

"I’m not sure."

"You look worn down, you should relax."

April stood and walked behind him, her dainty hands digging in to his shoulders with firm pressure through the thick material of his coat. She did give very good massages. Her hands were… skilled in many ways. Castiel reevaluated his plans to take Connie home to his small home stead and boil beans for dinner.

Castiel groaned and slumped forward as her tiny hands worked down his back. Dean snickered at him, tipping more liquor into his glass.

"Here, drink on the house Cas, take April up and blow off some steam."

Castiel thought it was still a bit early for that, but honestly he was too tired to argue and wouldn’t mind if April wanted to do all the work tonight. Just as he was deciding whether to sensibly spend the night alone in his own bed or shell out to spend the night with a warm body, there were gun shots outside and the sound of shattering glass.

Castiel knocked his stool down as he shot up and ran from the saloon. Dean was on his heels. Out in the street, he heard the noise coming from up a few shops, from the bank. Someone emerged from the bank waving a gun, wearing a loose dark coat that went to their ankles and a large hat with a bandana tied around their face obscuring everything but the eyes. Another person came out behind them, dragging a body.

They were both dressed the same, the only feature discernible two sets of brown eyes, and both weighed down with canvas sacks presumably of money they had just stolen from the bank. The second bandit had the banker knocked unconscious.

"Sam!"

Dean was going to leap into the fray unthinking, reckless, to try and save his brother. Although the person dragging Sam’s limp body was distracted with his task, the second one was on point, shouting “Keep back! Everyone back, now! He’s not dead yet but he will be if you take one step forward!”

Castiel grabbed Dean by his shirt, bodily hauling him back. His free hand rested on his pistol holstered at his waist. The one robber had a gun pointed at the two of them, probably deeming them the biggest threat. Which they were. He had the sheriff’s badge pinned to his chest and Dean looked ready to rip someone’s head off.

The guy’s voice was muffled under the bandana. “We’ll drop him out of town if you stay away, you try and follow us, he’s gonna get hurt.”

The second robber pushed and heaved Sam’s large body up to sling across the back of a horse. Castiel could see blood running down his face from his hairline, and one of his arms looked twisted up unnaturally. There was no way they weren’t going to follow the bandits. But Castiel wasn’t going to start a fight when they had a gun on Sam and onlookers were peering out of store fronts and watching the scene, ready to panic and get in the way.

The two robbers secured their bounty and mounted, tearing off away from the town. Castiel was running for his horse and Dean was already halfway around the saloon to his. Castiel had a head start on Dean, but he knew the bartender would find him and catch up. He didn’t want to lose their trail. Tearing down the main street out of town, he headed in the direction he saw them take towards the scrub lands.

Castiel kept distance between them, keeping the dust clouds their horses kicked up in sight while he waited for Dean to catch up. He heard Dean’s mare before her saw her, a sleek black horse pounding up ahead of Castiel’s larger - clumsier - blond horse. He spurred her on and rode Dean’s heels while they pushed forward towards the robbers.

The sound of hooves pounding over the dry earth beat a fast rhythm, the sky dipping lower in the sky making it blush in reds and oranges, the dust kicked up from their chase choking in his throat. Castiel grasped the reins in one hand and clenched his thighs as he bobbed on his horse, using his free hand to pull his bandana up around his nose, squinting his eyes against the haze.

They were heading towards the canyons. Maybe they had hoped to lose their pursuers in the twisting labyrinth, but he and Dean knew this area. How familiar the other two riders were, he couldn’t be certain. Galloping up alongside Dean, Castiel gesture to signal that they should split up as the canyon came up quickly ahead of them. If they split to different entrances they knew and twisted around to the middle they might, with luck, be able to cut the bandits off and trap them.

Dean nodded at him and veered his horse off to the side. Castiel steered his horse to the other as the earth sloped down from brown dirty wastelands to the red ocher clay of the canyon floor that dipped and curved through the looming rock formations. He weaved through the familiar paths and raced to get deeper in to the canyon before turning his horse around and sweeping in towards the middle.

The echoing distortions of sound made it difficult to pinpoint the others but as he grew nearer he knew he was coming up on another rider. Whether it were Dean, or the bandits, was unclear. Rounding a turn, Castiel reared his horse as two riders pulled their own up sharply and backtracked. He’d found the bandits again, but they took off in the other direction with him on their heels.

Castiel saw Dean in the distance down a long hall stretch of rippling canyon walls, the other two riders saw him too and took a sharp turn. Dean and Castiel met up and followed them. It was a dead end path.

The robbers halted their horses once they saw that they were heading towards a solid wall with no where to go but up. They pulled their guns out to train on Dean and Castiel, who had their own pistols in hands. No one was going to win in this equation. Sam was jerking weakly slung across the one rider’s saddle, his white button up shirt was turned red along the shoulder where Castiel could see it.

Dean looked about ready to do something fool hardy, so Castiel beat him to it. Holstering his gun, he swung down off his horse and held his arms out.

“Trade! Me for the banker!”

The robber’s horses were nervous and flighty as they stamped their hooves and edged side to side. The rider with Sam as hostage yelled out, “You shouldn’t have followed us!”

“Come on, he’s just a dead weight, he’ll slow you down.”

“A dead weight is less dangerous than you!”

Castiel could hear the creak of leather as Dean’s hands tightened on his horses reins, the gun in his hand still held steady and pointed forward. Castiel pulled his own pistol out, crouched to place it on the ground, and slowly stood again.

Castiel stepped towards the others, hands up. “I won’t cause you any trouble, he needs medical attention, do you want his death on your hands?”

Dean huffed and holstered his gun, swinging down from his horse and trying to whisper at Cas. “Cas, c’mon don’t be stupid man, they can’t be trusted.”

“Sam needs to get back to town and get to the doctor, Dean, you take him back.”

“If anyone should go with them it should be me.”

“You need to take care of your brother Dean, I can hold my own.”

“Soon’s I get Sam safe, I’m gonna track you down.”

“I know.”

Castiel walked away from Dean, slowly approaching the bandits.

“Come on, you’ve got no where to go, there’s no good end to this. Take me for him.”

The rider with Sam on his horse dismounted, the other keeping a gun pointed on him.

“You try any tricks and you’re a dead man.”

“Please, he’s my friend, I just want him to get the medical attention he needs.”

The eyes over the bandana narrowed at Castiel, considering, before the robber yanked at Sam and hauled him off the horse roughly. Sam hit the ground with a groan, rolling on to his side. Castiel rushed forward, kneeling in front of him and pulling him up to his knees.

“Sam! Sam, are you all right?”

“Cas? Cas, man, what, I don’t know what….”

“Sam you need to go to your brother, Dean’s waiting for you.”

Castiel tried checking the wound on Sam’s head but his hands were pulled roughly behind him, being bound with rope. He stayed kneeling, submissive, in the dirt as Sam was pulled up and pushed towards Dean. Castiel watched him stumble, and amble over towards where Dean was yelling at him.

“Sammy! Sam get your ass over here!”

Castiel watched Dean haul Sam close and pat him down. Those wide green eyes turned to him with desperation and uncertainty.

“Go Dean! Go now!”

Dean shoved Sam towards Cas’ horse, heaving him up as Sam fumbled and clutched weakly at the reins. Dean scowled and mounted his own horse. Castiel could feel his frustration and rage like a palpable thing crackling in the air before he turned and led Sam away.

Castiel shifted to stand from his kneeling position, and received a hard punch along his jaw for it. Swaying to the side, nearly toppling, he glared at the man standing in front of him. The other rider was still on his horse, gun in hand. The one in front of Castiel pulled his bandana down.

Oh. Oh, it was a woman. A few curls of dark brown hair had tumbled out from the confines of her hat, and her smooth round face was twisted up in something he didn’t want to decipher. She looked familiar. Castiel racked his brain to run over the wanted posters he’d seen circulating lately.

Shit.

They were the Masters sisters, Meg and Ruby. Two hellcats tearing across the territories leaving destruction in their wake. This was not good. If he had her face right, this one was Meg. She smiled wickedly down at him, reaching out to grab his messy hair and yank his head back painfully.

“You gonna be a good boy for us now sheriff?”


	2. Chapter 2

Meg searched him roughly for weapons, gloved hands patting over every stretch of his body, dipping in to his coat pockets. She took the knives that were strapped in his coat, took the second pistol from around his waist, pick up the first that he’d left on the canyon ground a few paces away. She even pushed him over onto his ass and took his shoes off to search in there. Then she took his sheriff’s badge, flicking the pinprick of it with her thumb before tucking it away in her own coat.

Castiel’s jaw ached, and his lips were wet in the corner with blood. He was mostly certain that he knew who these bandits were, but he wasn’t going to let them know that he knew. They might be more inclined to dump him off later if they didn’t think he was aware of their identities.

Ruby - if he was correct - held the gun on him while Meg searched him. They were both quiet, moving quickly, eager to get out and put distance between them and the town. After Meg was satisfied that he had nothing useful on his body, she hauled him up to his feet. Castiel was a head taller than her, but she had no compunctions or difficulties handling him, shoving him towards the horse and helping heave him up with his hands still tied behind his back.

Meg mounted behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist to grip the reins. He was pushed up - awkwardly and painfully - against the horn of the saddle as she tried to situate.

"Goddamit, I can’t see around you. Should just drape you across the saddle like the other one."

"I would appreciate if you didn’t."

"Bet it would be easier to just knock you out too."

Meg dismounted, her hands grabbing his coat around the waist and pulling. Castiel was too imbalanced with his hands behind his back and ended up falling, shoulder slamming into the ground and his forehead bouncing off it. Meg didn’t seem concerned at all. She pulled him up, untied his hands from behind his back while Ruby still had the gun point at him.

Ruby scoffed and made her annoyance at the delay known with a grunt. “Come oooon, we need to move!”

Castiel had his arms pulled in front of himself and tied together that way. Meg shoved him up into the saddle as he hooked a foot in and tried to get up a second time, ungainly, almost falling off when the horse shifted irritatedly. Meg pulled herself up in front of him. He didn’t have a warning before she was spurring the animal forward, Castiel swaying behind her before clutching at the back of her coat and clinging on.

By the time they found their way out of the canyon it was night, the deep blue sky scattered with bright stars and a moon nearly full. The two riders pulled their horses to stopping, gazing up at the sky and gaining their bearings before pointing the animals westward and spurring them to a gallop again.

It was difficult, trying to ride behind someone. Holding her coat with his bound hands helped him stay upright as their bodies jostled together with the fast pace, hooves pounding over the hard earth. The bandits rode their horses hard and long into the night out past the canyons, past the tall rocks, into the barren dessert lands.

They rode for what must have been hours, Castiel’s face stinging with the wind as his bandana was around his neck, and only after the moon had tipped past the mid point in the sky did they slow their pace. Riding at a quick clip, the riders would go ahead of each and fall back, alternating. With an easier pace, Castiel didn’t have to hold on to Meg so hard. He twisted and rolled his wrists, testing the strength of the rope and the skill of their knots. It had squirmed and cinched it’s way down past his coat and shirt sleeves to chafe his wrists raw.

Bumping forward against Meg, Castiel blinked and looked around when he realized they had stopped. There was a scraggly wind swept tree leaning severely to the left in front of them, a patch of scraggly dry grass underneath it. Meg swung herself down from the saddle gracefully, pulling at Castiel’s coat again. He expected it this time, stumbling against her but managing to stay upright as she braced his fall.

Meg tugged him forward and pushed his shoulder down.

"Sit."

Castiel did as instructed, sitting cross legged several paces away from the tree where the two bandits were tying up their horses. He had nothing of any use on him but his hands, which were tied. He could pick at the knot and probably get it undone over the next few hours, if they weren’t watching him. Of course, soon as the horses were tethered and left to munch on the meager patch of grass, the two bandits turned to him.

The second rider took her hat off and pulled her bandana down. A long dark braid tumbled down her back, wide set lips smirking at him her pale complexion lit up in the silver moonlight. Standing side by side, he knew for sure he was dealing with the Masters sisters now.

They took stock of their loot, settled their horses, pulled a few items out of sacks and came to sit down in front of Castiel. Meg tossed a few things in his lap. At least his wrists were still tied in front of him. He picked up a piece of jerky and a hard tack biscuit. Well at least they were courteous enough to feed him.

Meg and Ruby were sitting across him, two pairs of brown eyes studying him, both cross legged in the dirt talking with their mouths open as they gnawed at the hard meat and harder biscuits.

The one that must be Meg for her round face and smaller lips - if the posters had their names right - talked first.

"We should just dump him out here."

"This far out I doubt he’d make it back to town alive."

"He might."

"Yeah. We could always give him a mercy kill and leave him for the vultures."

"We could."

"You think his friend would get uppity and come after us for revenge?"

Meg shrugged and looked disinterested, “There’s plenty of people after us for revenge already.”

"Could bring him with us, assurance if his friend shows up."

Meg quieted, shredding a tough piece of jerky with her teeth and uncapping a canteen to drink. “You gonna give us any trouble sheriff? Mighty quiet over there while we’re over here deciding your fate.”

"I didn’t think I had a say in the matter."

Ruby was picking at her jerky with long nails. “Didn’t answer my friends question. You gonna give us trouble?”

"Of course not."

Castiel glared at them, managing to break off a section of biscuit for himself even though he was afraid he broke a tooth doing so, rolling it around on his tongue to soften it with saliva but the hardness refused to soften and he swallowed, his whole mouth and throat feeling rough and dry. He eyed the canteen with longing.

Meg passed it over to him. “You got a name?”

"Do you have any interest in my name?"

She rolled her eyes and Ruby snorted. Meg asked him, “You ever been told that you shouldn’t name your chickens? Isn’t a name supposed to make someone more familiar, make you like them a little more.”

"I could easily give you a false name. I doubt that would make you want to kill me any less. Besides, if I was hungry I’d eat the chicken whether he had a name or not."

Ruby broke into a grating sort of laughter, nudging Meg’s shoulder. “Oh I like him he’s funny.”

"He’s too big, I don’t like riding with him."

"You’re smaller than me."

"My horse’ll get tired."

"We can switch."

Castiel drank the water and passed it back over, chewing on his stringy jerky and watching the two women bicker. They were strange. They were crass and violent and intimidating. Despite their smaller stature he had no doubt the two of them would be formidable hand to hand without weapons. In the few fights he’d had with women they fought with a more wild sort of desperation.

He wouldn’t underestimate them and make a foolish move to get himself in more trouble. If Dean had made good time getting Sam back to town, he would be hunting them down right now and he wouldn’t stop. He worked as a bartender now, but that hadn’t always been his profession. Dean had been a bounty hunter with his father, with a long list of felons brought in by their hands. Castiel didn’t know the whole story of how he ended up settling down in a town with his brother, who had chosen a much safer profession for himself.

So he’d wait. He’d observe them, their tendencies, and he’d play nice for now.

Meg had finished with their small repast, leaning back on her hands and tipping her head up to the sky. Ruby belched loudly, and laughed.

"My name is Castiel."

Ruby made a disbelieving face at him, but Meg hunched forward and rested her arms on her knees. “You know who we are don’t you?”

"Bandits?"

"Don’t play stupid Cas."

"Perhaps your ego outstrips your reputation."

"You wear the sheriff’s badge, I saw the wanted posters outside the jail cell."

Castiel narrowed his gaze at her. “I know who you are.”

Meg nodded once, “Thought so.”

Ruby looked positively delighted. “We’re gonna have the territories on their knees from the Mississippi to the Rockie’s.”

"That’s a lofty goal."

Meg scoffed, “Better than wasting away in a no name town waitin’ to die in childbirth or an Indian raid.”

She stood and turned to walk back to the horses, unstrapping a bedroll from the back of one. “You want first watch Rubes?”

"No, you take it."

"Sure."

Ah, so sneaking away in the middle of the night was most likely out of the question. Ruby shook the bedroll out along the hard earth, sitting down on it and patting next to herself, smiling at Castiel.

“Gonna scoot your way on over here pretty boy?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Gets mighty cold out here at night.”

Meg was walking a circle around their little group, taking stock perhaps, before she came back and sat down near the horses where all the weapons and supplies were. Castiel could try to stay awake all night and hope for an opportunity if one fell asleep on their watch. Then he’d be exhausted for any riding tomorrow. He could curl up on his own on the cold ground and shiver his way through the night. Or, he could just awkwardly waddle over on his knees with his hands still tied up and flop onto the thin blanket with Ruby. He took the last option.

Ruby pulled a scratchy wool blanket over the both of them and curled up next to him. It was rather warmer than the exposed air outside their little bundle. He was confused by the small niceties they showed him when they had been so rough and aggressive. They did not untie his hands while he slept, and he could feel Meg’s eyes on him. Still, after the long weary day he’d had, Castiel fell in to sleep easily.

He woke up, seemingly a heartbeat after he’d fallen asleep, with a hard kick to his side. Ruby was grinning down at him, there was something slick and sly in her smile that set his hair on end. He was still under the blanket, but now it was Meg stretched along next to him. Castiel was on his side, curled around the smaller woman, his bound hands clutched to his chest while she crowded up against him, her backside pressing against his crotch.

He was hard. Castiel rolled onto his back and groaned. He could be waking up next to April. If he had the coin for an entire night, he could have woken up next to her sun softened skin and her sweet smile and he could pretend that her smile was only for him. For a little while at least. That was where he should be right now.

Not under the lightening sky that was turning indigo in the pre-dawn hours, though the sun wasn’t even risen yet.

“Mornin’ sugar lips.”

Castiel reached his hands up to scrub his face, refusing to come out from under the blanket until his erection had gone away. Then Meg stirred next to him, sitting up and stretching her hands above her head as her body arched pulling her baggy clothes around her. She turned to look at him, lips quirked up and one eye brow raised. He wondered just exactly when she had woken up.

In any case, the blanket was pulled away and the one under him was yanked as well, Castiel rolling to the side and pushing himself up. Meg rolled the blankets up and tied them to her horse, Ruby pulling out a few strips of jerky and loudly gnawing on one while she passed another to Castiel. He took it and began to eat before wondering how best to state his current state of need. It wasn’t going to change though, and after he had swallowed the meager breakfast, Castiel shuffled his weight from one foot to another and asked Meg, because sometimes he felt like Ruby was going to eat him, to be quite frank.

“I - ah, if you could untie me for just a minute, I need to relieve myself.”

“I’m not untying you.”

Meg grabbed him by the collar of his duster and hauled him off to the side.

Behind the tree, she shoved him forward and stood with her arms crossed under her chest.

“Privacy please?”

“Nope. I’ve seen a dick before, don’t get your bloomers in a twist.”

Castiel angled his body away from her gaze before he undid his pants. Even though his bladder was so full it was painful, it took him a minute to will his body to go when someone else was watching. After he’d finished and made himself decent, Meg bodily hauled him back to the horses. He could walk with his hands tied, but she still handled him aggressively and pushed him around.

They started mounting up just as the tip of the sun was pushing over the horizon line, the sky lighting up bright and clear. The women must have taken care of their own bodily necessities during their watches. It could only have been an hour or two that each of them slept with how little time had passed. But they were mean eyed and sharp, leading the horses away from the scraggly tree and heading them West again.

Meg turned her head to shoot a glance back at him. “Guess you’re gonna be stuck with us a while Cas. Better hold on tight.”


	3. Chapter 3

They rode hard for most of the daylight of the first day. Pausing at a creek to let the horses rest and drink, there was a short break during which Castiel was given a biscuit. The night went much the same as the previous, no campfire since they were being pursued, one of the women sleeping under a blanket with Castiel while the other kept watch, and rising before the sun to start the next day’s ride.

The pace was relentless for the first week as Castiel watched the sun rise and fall, keeping track of the days while the rope cut into his wrists and wore sores in his skin, while his beard grew thick, while the two women kept sharp eyes on him at all times. There was no sign of Dean. No sliver of an opportunity for Castiel. So he bided his time patiently.

While they were still only a few days out of town the sisters threw a wild range of ideas on what to do about him around.

_We could use him as a bargaining chip._

_What like trade him in for a ransom?_

_Yeah something like that._

_Did you see that town? You could yell from one end to the other, we’d be lucky to get a chicken and a bag of beans for him._

As they rode through the wastelands of the scrubby dessert and came out to gently rolling plains land with high grass and thicker vegetation, it was clear they wouldn’t be taking him back to town. And letting him loose did not seem favorable either.

_We could take him near a town and knock him out, let them figure it out._

_Where was the last place we were reported Rubes?_

_Back in Junction, I think._

_Right, so if they know we’re this far West already…._

_It’s not like they’d be able to figure us out if we drop him and run._

_But we don’t want them closing in._

_Yeah._

Castiel was grateful though that neither seemed inclined to kill him in cold blood. He wouldn’t give them a reason to kill him either. If he tried to wrangle a weapon and fight his way out, he had no doubt they wouldn’t hesitate to kill him then. He deemed the risk unnecessary with their current temperament.

As they talked at night about their plans, it became apparent they weren’t blowing around willy nilly like tumbleweeds taking whatever they wanted. There was a route. And there were other bandits they worked with. They had more organized plans that Castiel had assumed.

_We could take him back with us. Abby would know what to do with him._

_Meg do you even remember when Eve tried to bring a guy back to the compound._

_Yeah but she wanted him for fun. Hostage situations are different._

_If it’s too dangerous to let him go because he knows who we are, you know he wouldn’t come out on the up side if he knew where the compound was._

For the first few days that Castiel rode with them, Meg and Ruby did switch off. Ruby, however, was all elbows and squirmed quite a lot. As much as Castiel did not like riding with her, she disliked riding with him even more. She was always cantankerous and argumentative the few times she shared a saddle with him. By the time the first week passed Castiel was only riding with Meg.

After a week, however, they slowed their pace and occasionally walked beside the horses to give them rest. The sisters were obviously still wary of being followed, of being hunted, but they must live like that constantly with such a high bounty on their heads. Once they’d put enough distance between them and the most recent town they’d robbed, they were less high strung. The trio stopped for longer hours at night, and even started having fires.

There was one day that Ruby left Castiel in Meg’s watchful - and armed - care. Meg tended the horses and patched a tear in her coat while the hours passed. Castiel sat, his hands tied still, with nothing to pass the time beside staring at Meg. It was an entirely uneventful day, but when Ruby came back she had replenished supplies. They ate rice and beans that night, a welcome reprieve from the dwindling biscuits and jerky.

Castiel wondered how well they knew this area, to know when and where they were close to towns.  He hadn’t seen them consulting maps, though they would turn their faces up at night and whisper under the stars. Castiel had passing knowledge of navigation using the stars but he more relied on the terrain and the sun, on his maps, on his traveling companions.

These two seemed more comfortable at night. Perhaps it was the darkness that shrouded their actions, that shrunk the world down so the trio couldn’t be seen across the plains without a campfire lit. It took tension from their shoulders, and they smiled more easily at night.

Although he was still perplexed that women would chose this lifestyle - and so far as he had seen excel at it - Castiel was growing if not comfortable slightly more accustomed to the close quarters and lack of privacy. He could urinate in front of them without having to force his bladder to work. And after a week of ‘good behavior’ they would untie his hands for other bodily functions, even if a pistol was aimed at him the whole time.

They, however, had no compunctions in lowering their trousers and squatting within his sight. In fact, he’d go so far as to say they did it so brazenly as to be mocking. Castiel often kept his eyes roaming, observing his captors keenly, but he averted his gaze in those instances. It was with a undeniable pique of curiosity, though, that he looked over one morning in the weak dawn light after hearing Meg cursing up a storm, to see her shoving dark folded rags down her pants.

Well, of course even such tough women posturing in men’s places would suffer their biology. Castiel was not unfamiliar with women’s menstrual times, although he did not - and did not want - to know it in more than passing. He had been married a long time ago, after all. 

He could smell the blood when he was close to her, through the sweat and lingering dust of the deserts. Regrettably, he could clearly remember being in physical proximity for an extended period of time with a fertile woman. His body responded to hers, although he willed it not to. With the warm curving lines of her back against him as he was straddled behind her in the saddle, his own physiology betrayed him. It wasn’t as though his maleness had any interest in whether a woman was morally desirable or not. 

Shortly after Meg had started, Ruby did as well. It was a long few days for Castiel. He tried to be as unobtrusive as possible, quietly waiting out their tempers. 

After more than two weeks had passed, days blurring together from one windy day to the next as they plodded across the earth on their horses, Castiel had become more complaisant in his captivity with a weary sort of resignation.  They were very cautious to keep their guards around him, keeping him bound. Yet they were kind in their own way, Meg especially as she seemed to take on his care herself as the days went on. Castiel reminded himself that these were bad people. They were wanted not only for theft but for multiple murders. They had hurt Sam and stolen from the good people of the town he was charged to protect

As they were coming up on three weeks of traveling together, Castiel was uncertain if they were even getting near their final destination. Or if they even had a final destination. If the Masters sisters had figured out what they wanted to do with him. They hadn’t hurt him since he’d proven to be a fairly cooperate - if surly, as Ruby complained - traveling companion. Or hostage, as the case may be. It wasn’t as though they’d given him opportunity to get near a weapon, or turned their gazes away long enough for him to untie himself. Castiel wasn’t interested in acts of stupidity.

They had come across no other riders, no Indians. Castiel was uncertain if this was fortuitous or not. There had been a few placid buffalo that were disinterested in their trio. Meg and Rub argued about shooting a buffalo, whether they should put in the effort needed to take it down and cut out the good parts. There were a few small jackrabbits that Castiel stared at wishing it to flop over dead but that never happened. In the end, their usual fare of jerky, biscuits, rice and beans was enough. Their pace was less grueling but brisk, both sisters in agreement that keeping moving and pushing hard was the best option.

His body was sore and aching from constant riding, even though the pace had slowed down and they walked at times to rest the horses. It was hot and dry for the entirety of their journey so far, no rains fell, no storms swept the plains, not even a drizzle blessed the dry earth. A small reprieve came one day when they came across a small river to be crossed.

The banks were scattered in patchy grass, a few copses of trees stretching down the length of the river. It was a lazy river, barely making any noise as it slipped on it’s way, rippling waters gleaming under the high bright sun.

They had intended to ford across the river on horseback. Castiel was accustomed to the press of Meg’s body and the gait of her horse. She shifted, looking over to Ruby, scratching her leg through her pants.

"You think we could afford a few hours?"

"I think it would be nice."

"When was the last time we even been rained on?”

"I don’t know. It’s been a dry season."

"Horses could use a rest."

"Yep."

Meg swung down from the saddle and pulled Castiel after her. He was used to the motion of tipping forward and sliding his legs over with his hands tied. Ruby led both horses towards a cluster of trees to one side, tying them up. Meg led Castiel in the other direction, pushing him down and tying his ankles before tethering him to a tree.

"Is this really necessary?"

"Don’t take me for a fool sheriff, I don’t doubt you’ll turn on us soon’s you get the opportunity."

Castiel sighed and rolled his tender wrists, watching Meg walk away towards the horses. He assumed they had only stopped to let the horses graze, but the sisters didn’t usually tie up his ankles unless they might have their watchful eyes distracted a little. Castiel followed their movements, curious.

They took off their hats, bandanas, belts and holsters, making piles away from Castiel by the horses’ trees. They kicked off their shoes and shrugged out of their coats. Then they began to unbutton their shirts and pants. Castiel looked away quickly, staring down at his bound hands in his lap. When he heard the splash of water, he looked up to see the two women wading in to the river naked as the day they were born.

They were as unashamed and unapologetic in their nudity as they had been about everything else. Castiel didn’t notice that his stare was lingering. Even if they were so improper as to disrobe in front of a man, he shouldn’t be so improper as to keep looking. But he found himself watching. They were much smaller and more slender without layers of men’s clothes that draped off their curving forms. They almost seemed vulnerable. Ruby was broader where Meg was narrow, both hard muscled yet somehow looking delicate with their graceful features.

The two women stood in the shallows while the water lapped around their knees, unbraiding each others hair. Their inner thighs were red with dried blood, pale skin gritty with the dust and dirt that made it’s way everywhere eventually. Meg raised her arms above her head, fingers combing through her long wavy hair. The hair under her arms was short and light, the curls between her legs thick. He felt a swell of desire to tickle his fingers over the soft hairs of her body, over her firm breasts and peaked nipples, between her legs. 

Castiel felt his face heat when Meg caught him staring, and she stared back with a secretive smirk. Cupping water in her palms she let it drip over the curves of her sinuous body and Castiel was unable to look away. Ruby’s shrill laugh broke the spell he was under, and Castiel went back to staring at his hands. He didn’t pay heed to Ruby’s lewd gestures.

It wasn’t as though Castiel had never seen a nude woman in his life. He had been married, for a time. His wife Daphne had been an admirable woman, strong enough to take on the task of settling west with him. She had died during childbirth, along with their first baby. Castiel didn’t take a new wife after that, he didn’t want any other woman. He spent increasing amounts of his time dealing with his hardships and sorrow as most others did, at the saloon.

Castiel met Dean there, at the bottom of a whiskey bottle, and found warm friendship in a place he didn’t expect it.  He was still a sad mess of a man though, and April peeled him off the bar one night to take to her room. He had the needs of any man, and returned to her many times after that night. But perhaps he was a sentimental dolt, he had never wanted any other saloon girl. It wasn’t a woman’s touch he wanted so much as her voice, her comfort, the familiarity of arms he knew.

The Masters sisters, they weren’t like any women Castiel had ever known, not in their spirit. Their bodies he supposed were as similar as one might expect, harder for their lives, but they were in no way comparable to either the civilized city women he’d known or the steel tempered women of the frontier.

He found himself looking, again, eyes unable to stay in his lap, wandering away from watching the horses. The women gathered handfuls of sandy sediment from the river bed and scrubbed it over their bodies, over each other, stooping down in the river to rinse off, dirt sloughing away. Meg stood and wrung her hair out, wading up to the bank and walking to the horses. She gathered the pile of thin linen under clothes of her and her sister, taking them back to the river. The sisters rinsed and scrubbed at their clothes, wringing the material out and laying them flat against a few rocks in the river.

Castiel watched them work. He considered picking at his ropes, gauged whether he might be able to sprint over to the horses to grab a weapon faster than them, or if he caught them unawares and could subdue the both of them. Every time he so much as twitched, one of them clucked at him and told him to stay still. They were watching him too.

After they’d finished their tasks, bodies wet and bare still, Meg crouched down next to Castiel and started untying him as Ruby fastened her holster around her naked waist, hand on her pistol. Castiel looked in the opposite direction of Meg’s pink scrubbed skin and loose hair. She started pulling him up and pulling at his clothing though, and that had him scowling down at her.

"What do you think you’re doing."

"It’ll take a while for the clothes to dry. You ought to take a dip too, don’t you think?"

"That’s - but - I, I have a sense of propriety, unlike you savage women."

"I don’t think you’ve got anything left to hide from us, and you’d do well not to contradict me."

Meg had the ropes undone from his ankles and wrists, his duster fallen to the ground and his waistcoat undone, she was pulling at the buttons on his shirt and pants. Castiel batted her nimble hands away.

"I can do it myself."

"You didn’t seem inclined to."

He glared at the small, fierce naked woman as he pushed his pants down. Ruby was leering, she seemed too fond of watching the times Castiel clashed with Meg.

"C’mon sugar lips, give a few curious girls a show."

They both laughed at him as he left his clothes on the bank and turned his back to them, wading out and crouching down in the river so the cool water was up to his chest. Castiel groaned and sank further into the river, skin dry from the sun and dirty from riding, hot and achy muscles soothed by the gently running water. Oh, this was a good idea. Gathering handfuls of sediment to scrub his skin and splashing around, the sisters were sitting on the bank, guns nearby, and plaiting each others hair while they watched him. He caught snippets of their conversations.

_….no way…. you’ve got to be kidding……_

_…………Abby was furious….. about to ……_

Every now and then he heard them laugh.

_.. tight little ass….._

_well …. water is pretty cold….._

Castiel sank further into the river and shied away from their gazes. He scratched at the beard growing thick along his jaw, and gently cleaned the raw torn skin around his wrists.

"C’mon pretty boy, you’re dawdling."

"Hey, grab the clothes from the rocks on your way out."

Castiel sighed, wishing he could stay in the cool water a little longer, but he obeyed. The linen was almost dry already from the intense sun, and he was careful not to wet it again as he carried them to banks. Dripping wet, Castiel passed them over to Ruby. Meg tsked and frowned at him. Castiel wondered what he’d done to earn her ire this time. She walked towards the horses and rummaged around in her sack before coming back to him.

"Sit."

The women were still naked, and Castiel was now as well. He sat on the dry ground with his hands folded over his lap in modesty as Meg sat in front of him. She tugged his hands away and he was ready to dissent indignantly, but she turned his hands in hers and began rubbing a salve against the sore skin of his wrists. On the little tin she’d set beside her were a few strips of cloth.

"Didn’t know the ropes were doin’ you so bad."

"And you care?"

"Why wouldn’t I?"

"You’re not a good person."

"Don’t you think good’s a bit of a slippery thing."

Meg’s slender fingers curled over his wrists lightly, the salve tingling and smelling pungent but Castiel hoped it would help the burning that twinged up his forearm. He squinted at Meg.

"You’ve killed people."

"I have. In self defense. I’m pretty sure you have too sheriff."

"The people you killed were probably defending themselves first from you."

Meg shrugged. “Gotta make a living somehow.”

"At the expense of others?”

"Everything you take’s gotta be taken from somewhere Cas."

She wrapped a strip of cloth around his wrist and tightened it, emphatically.

"That’s why you give, too."

"It’s hard out here for a girl like me."

"And what sort of girl is that?"

Meg let his hands go, and Castiel folded them over his lap again, the heat of the sun drying his shoulders. She shifted next to him, sitting and stretching her legs in front of her. Ruby, with her pistols, was watching the two of them.

"I don’t play by rules that I never agreed to."

Meg huffed and stood, effectively ending the conversation. Castiel had a mind to pursue it, but he looked away instead from the sway of her hips as she walked away. The sisters dressed, and tossed Castiel his clothes to dress as well. The more he gleaned about the sisters from overheard conversations and bitter exchanges, the more tangled things were becoming in his head. 

His hands were tied again, the rope pulled over the clothes that protected his broken skin, and he mounted up behind Meg on her horse. The river was crossed and put behind them as they moved westward again.


	4. Chapter 4

In a few days time, their skin was dry and dusty as it had been before their splash in the river. Castiel found himself scratching at the thick beard that was growing longer as they neared the month mark. A whole month in their captivity. Although they didn’t particularly give him any good opportunities to orchestrate an escape, Castiel was starting to think that he’d stopped looking so hard for them either. 

He gnawed on a strip of jerky and scratched his beard. If Castiel had ever thought that he kept his face clean shaven because April preferred it that way, he was wrong. He didn’t like how it felt, and it was too hot under the desert sun. It itched. 

Meg watched him from where she stood near the horses, tying the bedrolls back up. It was still chilly from night but the sun was making fast work of climbing up in the sky, the bright oranges of morning faded out to blue although the clouds were still lined in pink. 

Castiel sat cross legged, bound hands lifted up and scratching under his chin. The scritch scritch sounded loud to him, Meg’s horse silent as he snuffled against a scraggly patch of dead grass. Ruby had left at daybreak to make a supply run. Anymore, if Castiel was to be left alone with one of the sisters, he was left alone with Meg. 

“You tryin’ to pull your beard out hair by hair?”

“Perhaps.”

“Gotta say the scruffy look don’t suit you. Ain’t lookin so pretty as when we found you.”

“I’m not a fan of it either. It’s hot.”

Meg pulled a knife from her belt and fished a canteen of water from a saddle bag. 

“You trust me near your face with a knife, and I’ll shave it off for you.”

“Why would you do that?”

“You see anythin’ better to do round here?”

Castiel didn’t even see so much as a scorpion scurrying across the ground or a vulture in the sky. It was a quiet morning. Castiel liked the quiet moments when Ruby was out scouting or on a run. She was a very abrasive sort of person, very loud, and eager to antagonize Castiel. 

“Have you ever shaved a man’s face before?”

“Few times.”

Should he trust her willingly to put a sharp object against his throat? The answer most emphatically was a no. Was the only reason he was considering saying yes to rid himself of the nuisance his beard had become? Again, the answer was a no. 

Despite how rough Meg frequently was, when she was pulling him on or off the horse, shoving him around where she wanted him to go, with strong hands a gruff scowl, there were the odd moments that she could be gentle. Checking the wrappings on his wrist. Passing him a biscuit when Ruby’s gaze was turned and she let her hand linger against his. 

Castiel wanted her to touch him gently. And he couldn’t be bothered to think of why. 

He squinted at her, and she stood there looking back with the knife and canteen in one hand, the other propped on her hip. She gave nothing away. No reason. No objective. The only thing she gave Castiel more of was questions. 

“I would appreciate it. Thank you.”

Meg rolled her eyes. The embers of the small fire they’d had that morning were still glowing. She fished out a small tin pot and set it on a rock near the embers and poured a meager amount of water inside. Castiel was glad that they’d started allowing fires. They were never kept all night long, but were allowed for meals. He supposed that no one was looking anymore. Surely they’d gone far enough that Dean would not have been able to track them. 

Castiel realized suddenly that his increasing complacency may in part be due to the fact he doubted his friends were looking for him anymore. Not as though he should feel that he needed their help, given the chance to snag a weapon or slip his ropes Castiel could take both the sisters at once. 

Meg flicked a finger in to the water. Castiel watched as she removed all the weapons from her belt and coat. Pistols, knives. She tucked everything in her saddle bag except the one knife, then gathered the warmed pot and canteen and came over to where Castiel was sitting cross legged. 

She set her items down next to him, except her knife which was kept on the hip on the far side of him. Dunking a rag in the warm water, she wrung it out and stood in front of him. She pushed his head back with a hand on his forehead, and dropped the wet rag against his lower face. 

“Hold that there.”

Head tipped back, hands tied together awkwardly held up and making sure the rag didn’t slip, Castiel waited as she shuffled around. 

He did not expect her weight to drop in his lap. Meg sat astride him, settling down and smiling feral when he sputtered against the rag and dropped it. 

“Be a good boy and I won’t cut you too much.”

Castiel sat, arms pulled in tight against his chest in an attempt to avoid touching her, while Meg grasped his chin in her hand. She lifted his face up, considering, and smoothed his beard with the rag. Twisting aside to pour cold water over her knife, she brought it to his face and guided his head to the side. Pressing firm but gentle, she dragged the blade up his cheek. Twisting to the side, she flicked the hairs aside onto the ground and returned. 

She’d make several passes down his jaw, wipe the hair off, pour cold water on her knife and return. It was a rhythm how she worked, and Castiel watched the concentration on her face as she regarded him. Her hands were gentle, this time, light, tipping his head where she wanted and he followed her guidance by touch easily though his eyes never left her face. 

After several minutes had passed she started to hum. He’d heard her hum every now and then before, when she was in the middle of a repetitive task, a low soft sound that seemed incongruous from this rough woman. She hummed while she worked shaving his face. Castiel felt his body slowly relax, hands falling in to her lap, pliant underneath her. 

Meg tipped his head back sharply to work underneath his chin and Castiel closed his eyes at that. Felt her slender calloused fingers brushing against the newly exposed skin of his jaw. It wasn’t a very close shave but it was enough. He felt exposed before her, and he was, had been. But this felt like something else. He listened to the drag of her knife along his chin and the splash of water, to the low hum of a tune he couldn’t recognize. 

He didn’t realize when she had finished. She had pulled his face back down, but he kept his eyes shut, her fingers dragging against his skin. He could smell the salt and dirt of her body so close, feel the heat of her even under the sun that was almost midway up in the sky by now. Her hands were gentle against his face, even though they weren’t working anymore, the knife tucked away and she was finished but still she staid. 

“There. Lookin’ a sight better for sore eyes.”

Castiel blinked, finding her face close to his, a few messy strands of wavy hair that had escaped her braid framing her round pretty face. 

“Thank you, Meg.”

She shifted, and instead of standing up she rocked closer to him in his lap. Thighs sliding around his waist, he could feel her breasts push against his chest as she rested her hands on his shoulders. 

“I don’t mind.”

Castiel’s hands were trapped against her belly. He couldn’t pull away but he didn’t have to press forward like he did, curling his fingers into the coarse fabric of her shirt, pulling, dipping his hands down low to press up underneath her shirt and feel the soft skin of her belly. 

She ground down against him, body sliding over the hardness under his trousers. A hand cupped his face and slid to push back through his hair. They stared at each other. Her eyes were wide and her lips were parted like they were inviting him in, breath warm against his cheek for how close she was with noses almost touching. 

He wanted his hands free. Wanted to be able to run his fingers through her hair. To grab her shoulders and roll her over and take. To see the sinuous curves of her petite body underneath the ill fitting clothes that he hadn’t seen since that day by the river. To feel the heat between her legs wet on his fingers, on his cock. 

Everything was too complicated. She had attacked his town and robbed his people, had hurt his friends and had taken him hostage. Her and her sister. Yet he seemed intent on fixating on the small kindnesses shown despite this. Or perhaps he simply wanted any kind of comfort he could find in the tumult of his upended life. 

Castiel tipped forward as he spread a hand under her shirt, seeking a kiss. Meg pulled back, turning her head aside, and his lips landed clumsily on her cheek. She curled an arm around his shoulders and pulled him against her neck. He pressed his lips to the dusty skin and rubbed his nose against her dark hair. She pushed a hand between their bodies to unbutton his pants, tugging and shifting clothes to push her hand down and grasp him. 

Groaning against her shoulder, Castiel twitched, hips jerking, unable to do much more than rub his face against her. Meg pulled his erection from his pants and curled her rough hand against him, sliding up the length and rubbing the pad of her thumb against the fold behind the head. She kept her arm around his shoulder, pulling him against her, as she moved her hand against his cock. Her arm was snaked down beside one of his, bound hands still under her shirt pushed to the side, fingers scratching against her as she moved and ground down against his thigh. 

Hunched over and panting against her neck, it did not take long for Meg’s firm grasp to wring his release from him. She let go of her hold around his shoulders, leaning back as her free hand rucked up his waistcoat and she moved his cock to press between his clothes as she brought him to completion. Castiel shuddered and felt the wetness seep into his shirt as Meg’s hand lingered gently on him until he had softened. 

When she tucked his cock back in his pants and pulled her hand away, she smeared it against his thigh and smiled at him. Castiel tugged at her shirts, trying to beg her closer silently, asking for more, for her to let him in but she pulled away. Stood and gathered the supplies she’d used for shaving him, quietly returning items back to their places in the saddle bag. 

“Meg.”

He adjusted his clothes, grimacing at the stickiness soaking and drying through his shirt.

“Don’t.”

“But - “

“I said don’t.”

She glared at him where she stood several paces away. Any conversation that Castiel may or may not have wanted to happen was definitively curtailed when they heard the pounding of hooves hurrying over the hard earth. Meg had been sliding her weapons back where they belonged on her person, taking her pistol out as she squinted against the light towards the rider approaching. Castiel craned his head to see the familiar horse and the familiar rider atop, long brown hair whipping behind her. Ruby was back already, they must have been fairly close to a town. 

Castiel felt a bitterness in his bones. He harbored more resentment for his own inability to control himself than he did towards Meg for whatever it was that she was after. It was maddening that he could never decide on a final verdict in regards to her character. She was harsher towards him after that morning than she had been in a while, shoving him forcefully up on the hoarse when they moved out again and riding hard. 

Ruby had only glanced at Castiel’s smooth face and caught Meg’s scowl before she decided to be quiet. Which was, odd. He didn’t understand this situation, he didn’t understand the Masters sisters, he didn’t understand what he meant to them be it bargaining chip or something else.

Worst of all Castiel didn’t understand himself. 


	5. Chapter 5

There was no such thing as privacy after Ruby had returned from the supply run. Castiel bit his tongue and ignored the stiffness of his shirt. It had been an eventful morning, and a long day of riding. Meg kept insisting they ride a little farther every time Ruby whined to stop for the night. As though it were possible that with distance between them and where their intimacy had happened, she could distance herself from the matter and from him.

That night, Meg took first watch and Ruby curled up next to his body heat underneath the thin scratchy blanket first. Castiel still woke when they switched shifts and Meg lay next to him. She turned her back to him and scooted as far over as could without crawling out from under the blanket. Any attempts Castiel made to shift closer, whether for heat or comfort or something else, were met with a sharp backward jab of her elbow.

It was a long night.

Castiel could accept that what had happened was a fevered mistake born of rough conditions and close quarters. He could accept that curiosity often got the best of a person. He could accept mistakes and lessons learned. But that was only pieces of the whole, for himself at least. He wanted to forget, wanted to move on instead of digging the hole in his chest even deeper.

Meg apparently had other ideas. Several nights of hard riding later, when Ruby took first watch, Castiel curled up on himself at the very fringe of the blanket he shared with Meg. He did not expect the warmth of her body pressing up behind him, and he certainly did not expect the reach of her slender limbs around him, draping over a stomach, pushing under his neck and curling up against his chest. When Ruby’s back was turned, looking out across the rolling barren waste lands lit dimly with a half full moon, Meg moved against him.

She had been even more foul tempered the past few days, and although her sour mood was certainly genuine, the increased roughness in how she handled him had felt hollow somehow. Maybe he wanted to believe this - he certainly was a fool - but the splay of her palm over his chest and her nimble fingers pushing under his pants, this felt somehow sincere. Not that he could ever mistake it for love, it was something twisted and tangled that he was sure neither of them really wanted but it offered something they needed.

Castiel wanted to believe that it was something else, somewhere else, but he couldn’t bring himself to imagine that is was someone else. He closed his eyes and clenched his bound hands in front of him, grasping for her smaller hand where it rested over his chest. Her breath was warm against the back of his neck sending a shiver down his spine, and he could feel the rhythm of her breathing as her chest pressed to his back.

They were both quiet, Meg’s hand moving slowly over his cock and curling tight, Castiel clinging on her hand at his chest. He imagined her as a saloon girl with red painted lips and soft hands laying him down gently against a bed. He imagined her as a wife, layers of skirts tangled around her legs sprawled in soft summer grass. He imagined her as a blushing girl spinning under the stars at an autumn harvest festival swaying to the twang of guitars in his arms.

His life had become a barren stretch of rolling scrub lands and he didn’t know when it would change or to what so he painted the landscape with his imagination, eyes closed to the world, retreated, and wondered what she’d look like with a smile on her face and rosy cheeks as he bit his lip and spilled against her hand, body trembling, her lips dry against the back of his neck as she hushed him.

He tells himself he doesn’t want this but he takes what she gives anyway, because the night is cold and his bones are weary and he’s given up. Panting, sticky and thirsty and tired under the open sky trapped in Meg’s arms, he slipped into fitful sleep.

Ruby is the first to break the silence on the subject.

The next morning, after she kicks at Castiel’s hip to wake him up and Meg rolls away from him with a disdainful groan, they eat a cold breakfast of hard biscuits in terse silence while Meg scowls at everything including the fire ants crawling over her boot and Ruby keeps looking between the two of them like she knows.

Finally, Ruby rolls her eyes and sighs and frowns at Meg. “Is there something you should tell me?”

Meg takes a moment to chew and swallow, staring Ruby down. “Not really.”

“Not really ain’t a no.”

“No.”

“He smells worse than usual.”

Ruby gestures towards him with her half eaten biscuit.

Meg shrugs, “So, men smell.”

“Everyone smells, he’s startin’ to smell like men smell and you two been weird round each other. You know we can’t afford distractions Meg, come on.”

Meg stuffs the remains of her biscuit in a pocket and stands, turning her back on the conversation.

Ruby stands and strides over to her, grabbing Meg’s shoulder and spinning her.

“You don’t get to keep silent bout somethin’ like this, not this time.”

Meg swats her hand away, “Ruby, drop it. We’re gettin’ close, we’ll take him to Abby and she’ll figure it out.”

“You think that’d really be a nicer fate for him that just shootin’ him and leavin’ him for the coyotes?”

Castiel, finished with his biscuit, shifted his legs to dislodge a pebble he’d been sitting on. “I still don’t have a say in this matter do I?”

Two pairs of angry eyes snapped his way, “No.”

Ruby grabbed Meg by the arm and dragged her closer to the horses, murmuring and shoving each other back and forth. Bickering. Both their backs were mostly turned, and at the least they were distracted. Castiel lifted his knees up bent to rest his elbows on his thighs and his face cupped in his hands. A completely innocent posture. He picked at the ropes around his wrists with his teeth. He started to feel something give.

Ruby drew a pistol and pointed it at him, all her attention whipped around and focused. Castiel stopped what he was doing.

“I swear, I see you pickin’ at those ropes one more time I’ll put a bullet between your eyes faster'n Meg can swoon.”

“Oh screw you I don’t swoon.”

That was effectively the end of the conversation. They tightened Castiel’s ropes and looped a lead to them, having him trot beside the horses instead of ride behind Meg. He wasn’t sure if Meg or Ruby had decided on that. The day stretched out and blurred until he was too exhausted to care.

There was something skittering and crackling under his skin, that pin prick sensation that swept in little bumps up his arms and tensed in the back of his neck. Like looking out across the land and watching heavy clouds coalescing on the horizon, knowing the storm’s going to come fast and fierce and it’s going to leave it’s mark across the land. It was a sense of anticipation, teetering on the cusp, and he didn’t know why he should feel it.

The dry cracked earth of the desert gave way to gentle rolling scrub lands and on the distant horizon Castiel saw the jagged ridges of mountains rising up. He wondered if that was where they were going, or if they would be winding through the mountains and pushing on towards the coast, if they would just ride forever and drag him along.

They stopped for the night near a scraggly Joshua tree, the horses happy to munch on wilted vegetation that was at least somewhat more alive than everything from where they’d come. After a meager dinner, the embers were put out and Castiel lay on his back under the blanket waiting for sleep.

It was a dark night out, the sky dimmed by clouds he hadn’t seen in a while and the moon was just a weak sliver. Meg crawled under the blanket next to him, after she’d murmured quietly with Ruby over by the tree where Ruby would stand her watch. Whichever sister was sleeping always stashed her weapons in the saddlebags first so Castiel couldn’t take them in the night. At this point, their shifts of staying up to post watch were most likely for the sake of keeping an eye on Castiel rather than keeping a wary watch for anyone following them.

Perhaps the few times that Ruby had separated for supply runs, she had pulled off small heists of her own or there was always the risk of someone recognizing them. They could easily have picked up another bounty hunter trailing them in the month they’d been trekking through the wastelands. Castiel doubted Dean or Sam would still be looking for him. It had been too long and they’d gone too far. He didn’t even know how severe Sam’s injuries were, Dean may have staid in town with him, may have let the trail go too cold until there was nothing to follow.

Castiel didn’t like to dwell on these things but Meg was rolled onto her side with her back to him. Eventually, he gave up his pride and scooted towards her, curving his larger body around her with his hands pressed uncomfortably between them. She didn’t push him away though, and he fell in to fitful sleep.

Thrashing limbs and a string of expletives woke Castiel. It wasn’t even light out yet but Meg was leaping out from under the blanket like a doused cat. Groggily blinking awake and squinting into the dark night, Castiel heard scuffling to his right where the tree was, heard a muffled cry, a thud, the snick of metal sliding across leather, heard Ruby scream out.

Suddenly awake he rolled away from the blankets, away from the middle of their night camp and away from the tree, rising to a crouch. There were two tall figures wrangling Ruby near the tree, and Meg was inching towards the spooked horses to get her weapons when one of them broke away from Ruby to capture her.

Ruby squirmed out of the grasp of the guy that was trying to subdue her, flipping him over, getting dragged down with him the two of them rolled and tussled. Castiel could hear the stranger grunt and curse, bodies struggling for purchase, the rustle of clothes and thud of bodies fighting. He couldn’t see well for how dark it was but he watched the sudden scuffle unfold in front of him and he was wide awake torn between the urge to flee and try his luck in surviving alone without supplies or waiting to see who came out on top - the sisters or the strangers. If they were bounty hunters and managed to capture the sisters, they might help Castiel.

Meg went stock still, several paces from the horses as someone held a gun on her.

Castiel eased a little closer, still squatting close to the ground, and heard the man with the gun shouting to the one still wrangling with Ruby.

“Sammy you got that hell cat under control?”

Rising from his position, Castiel came around Meg on the side of the horses, “Dean?”

He could recognize the profile of his friend in the dark now that he had a voice to match to it. Relief soothed over his confusion and he squinted into the night trying to see better.

“Cas, Cas is that you, are you all right?”

Meg had her hands out to her side, head turning between Castiel and Dean, even though it was dark Castiel knew exactly the sour expression she’d be wearing.

“Yes, yes I’m fine.”

Sam stood, pulling a kicking, hissing Ruby with him, her arms tied behind her back.

Meg dropped and rolled towards the horses, Castiel was diving for her before he thought of it, hands still tied in front of him but he body slammed her and they rolled to the ground, air knocked from his lungs he grunted as his shoulder impacted the hard earth. She scratched and bit at him wildly, flipping him onto his back as he tried to roll further away from the horses, the few feet distance between him and the hooves not nearly far enough. Dean leapt forward and grabbed Meg by the hair to yank her up and get her in a hold.

Castiel picked himself up and soothed one of the scared horses with a hand against it’s side, reaching in to the saddle bag for a knife. Cutting his own ropes, he pulled another length from the Masters sisters supplies and helped Dean in tying up Meg. Both sisters were spitting vitriol, curses and threats, until Sam and Dean rolled up bandanas and tied them around their mouths for gags.

The sky was softening to an indigo in the pre-dawn and Castiel knew the sun would rise within the hour. He watched his friends taking stock of their prisoners and the supplies they had, helped in packing up the small camp. They all shuffled around each other in stilted awkwardness and Castiel knew exactly what he had to be ashamed of, but he was uncertain why Sam and Dean could possibly have to regret.

Tying the bedrolls behind the saddle on one of the horses, Castiel turned when Dean clapped a hand to his shoulder.

“Hey, man, I’m sorry it took us a while to catch up.”

Castiel shook his head, finishing with the strap and turning around to face Dean. The sun was just cresting the horizon, and it was light enough to see the dirt etched in the fine wrinkles around his eyes, the rough thick beard growing on his jaw, the scrapes and bruises across his skin and the concern in his eyes.

“Thank you, Dean.”

Dean ducked his head, reaching a hand up to rub the back of his neck as he took a step back.

Castiel glanced over to Meg, sitting on the ground separated from Ruby, hands tied behind her back, hair tangled up with the gag tied around her mouth, glaring with narrowed eyes at Castiel, a cut above her brow red and smudged dirty.

He looked back to Dean, “What do we do now, with them?”

Dean rolled a shoulder, smirking cocky and pleased, “We take ‘em in for the bounty.”


End file.
